


Nomina

by LuxRoyalty (slytherinsdaughter)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Murder, Name Changes, Panic Attacks, Trans Cor Leonis, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15703092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinsdaughter/pseuds/LuxRoyalty
Summary: Cor has had many names throughout his life. Some that he liked more than others.Some that he can't stand.But the name of 'Cor Leonis' is just - his. And he likes it.





	Nomina

“Oh, _Cor_.” His mama said, looking at his freshly shaved hair. She bit her lip and sighed. Nothing was said about the problems this will cause, only, “that's the most lopsided shave I've ever seen, give me the clippers, you.” She smiled at him as she limped forward, her leg still bad, even after all these years.

He leaned back and she ruffled his hair, clicking the electric clippers back on.

Everything had been so much better when she was able to hunt. His parents were happier and they enough money. The best times of his life were when she took him out hunting with her, after she'd taught him some sword fighting.

(He’d been there when she didn't spot a coeurl, and it crept up behind her. He’d yelled, but she couldn't hear him, and so he ran to her, blade out.

He got there in time, but it had clamped it’s jaws into her leg and was shaking her.

He stabbed it, and it died, but her leg had never been good, after.)

“Done!” She announced and set the clippers down. She gently poked his side. “I'll finish cleaning up - you've done a good job so far - and you eat your breakfast and go to school before your dad gets home, okay?”

Cor nodded.

He trotted to kitchen, running a hand through his hair. It was so short, and he couldn't help but grin. He grabbed his bowl from the cupboard and put it on the nearby table. It was only another step in the cramped kitchen to get the cereal and milk and Cor dug into his food as soon as he put the items back away.

He was just about finished when the front door clicked open, hinges creaking loudly. Cor froze in his seat.

“I'm home!” His dad called. He’d obviously finished the night shift early, somehow. That was never a good thing.

Cor dumped his dish in the sink and went to bolt out of the other kitchen door, as quietly as he could. His heart beat loudly in his ears.

He wasn't fast enough.

“Cornelia, _what have you done with your hair?_ ” His dad said, aghast.

He looked him in the eyes, scowling at his father, hands twisted together behind his back. “I cut it.”

“Don't be cheeky - what did you cut it for? It was pretty.” His dad stepped forward, reaching out like he was trying to touch his hair. Cor took a step back.

“I don't want to be pretty.” Cor wondered what ‘being pretty’ had to do with _anything,_ and he shook his head. He knew what his father was going to say next, he always said it -

“You're a girl; of course you want to be pretty!”

“ _I'm not a girl!”_ Cor yelled, eyes burning. He wasn’t a girl, everyone knew it by now, but his dad never listened.

“Don't be stupid, Cornelia!”

“Adam!” His mother stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She’d moved as fast as she could, looking between the two of them, frowning heavily at her husband. “Stop it!”

“Our daughter-”

“Our _son!”_ She bared her teeth, stepping forward.

“She's too young to think-” His father raised his voice louder like he was trying to out yell any other opinions.

“ _He_ is our _son_ , and I don't know why-”

“She's like this because you!” His dad spat.

His mama tilted her head to the side and shook it at his dad. “...what?” Her voice was full of confusion.

“If you didn't take her hunting with you, she would have been normal.” He turned, and grabbed her old hunting sword off the wall. It shrieked as it was pulled out of its sheath wrongly, and his dad was holding it badly, hand too tight and loose at the same time. He waved it in the air, pointing it towards her. “This is why she's like this.”

“No - that's not - put it down, Adam, it's dangerous.” Her face was twisted up, like it did when she saw someone being stupid.

“It's your fault Cornelia thinks she’s a boy!”

“Adam, put that _down.”_

His dad took a step forward until the sword was too close to his mother, and Cor stared wide eyed. They’d never been like this before. He clenched his hands into fists, wondering if he should do something, anything -

And then his mama reached to move the blade away from her and, like it did sometimes, her bad leg collapsed.

And she fell onto the sword.

“Mama!” Cor exclaimed, running forward and pushing past his father, almost skidding on the tile.

It was a bad hit, she’s taught him enough he knew that much. The sword had slid through her ribs into where her lungs were, and when she coughed, blood spluttered out of her mouth.

“Edith!” His dad gasped, and knelt by her. He reached out with trembling hands, but his mother ignored her husband and held her hand to her mouth. She fell back onto the doorway, leaning against the wood like it was the only thing keeping her sitting upright. It probably was.

Cor grabbed her other hand. They’d gotten rid of all the powerful medical stuff after she’d quit hunting the only thing they could do was -

“Dad, call an ambulance.” He tugged on his dad’s sleeve. “Dad!”

His dad didn't move, and when Cor stood up to get the phone himself he was pulled back down onto the floor. “Don't.”

“Dad.” Cor’s voice broke, and he looked at his mother and she met his eyes. “We need an ambulance, dad-”

His dad shushed him. “It'll be okay, Cornelia.”

Cor wasn’t let go even as he struggled and begged and saw as the pool of blood expanded. The arms around him were tight and he felt a sickening feeling of satisfaction when his father winced at his kicks. After awhile, Cor stopped struggling.

He was still looking at his mother when the light faded from her eyes and she stopped breathing. Cor lay very, very still and then turned to look at his father.

“Fuck.” Said Adam. He stood up, dragging Cor up with him before grabbing his arm. Cor couldn’t stand on his shaking legs so Adam picked him up in his arms. He was carried to his room and dropped there. “Stay there, Cornelia,” he commanded, and shut the door behind him.

Cor did nothing other than stare at his bedroom door for several minutes. He shuddered, and slowly moved on dead limbs towards the stash of emergency money that his mama had hidden for him.

He changed out of his school uniform and opened one of his windows wide. Cor easily fit through it, and escaped his room using the nearby tree, like he’d gone so many times. With his money in his pocket he ran down the street. This time he wasn’t coming back.

It took most of the money to buy a fake birth certificate with the name ‘Cornelius Leonis’ on it. Cornelius for the name he would get if he was born a boy - if he hadn’t needed to tell people it - and Leonis for his mother’s maiden name.

The Crownsguard didn't look at the certificate very closely with the war going on.

 

* * *

 

“Just our luck.” Cid growled. He got out his gun, and loaded it, before he started to storm towards the coeurls with a murderous look on his face.

“It’s only three _young_ coeurls,” Cor muttered.

“Just three?” Cid turned around and scowled at him, gesturing with his gun pointed towards the sky. “ _Just three_ is enough, Cornelius!”

(“- Cornelius!” Amelia screamed. “Nifs, incoming!” There was sun in his eyes and sand in his nose and blood on the floor.

Amelia staggered, and then there was blood on her. Blood on her face. Bullet holes- )

Cid had turned away, and Cor held his sword tight with shaking hands. It was like he couldn’t breathe right, but that was stupid as nothing was stopping him breathing. He was scared. He was so scared and he hated, and even as his heart screamed in his chest he ran towards the coeurls, sword at the ready. It felt like he was running weirdly and wildly, but no one said anything.

“Wait up, Cor!” Yelled Clarus.

 

* * *

 

“Come on,” Clarus waved him over, “help me with this fire - it’s not lighting for some reason.”

Cor jogged over and crouched on the grass next to the fire pit. It was well made, and the wood was stacked well. It looked like it should have easily lit.

“Hold this.” Clarus told him, and Cor reached over to do just that.

“Why don’t you just use fire magic?” He asked as he watched Clarus fiddle with matches.

“Because the last time we tried when we were younger, Regis almost blew the room up, _Cornelius._ ”

(“-Oh no. Oh no. Astrals fucking damn it. The Nifs have set it on fire.” Adrian bit his lip and turned to him. “Cornelius, I’m ordering you bring the line back. Go behind that building and hold it.”

Cor hissed behind his teeth, but moved when Adrian waved him to.

He didn’t expect the plastic above Adrian to start melting, dripping down onto the man, making him scream. And he screamed and screamed, and Cyrus held Cor back to he couldn’t get himself killed like Adrian- )

“There.” Clarus declared. “Finally, it’s lit.”

Cor took his hands away from the fire. It took a moment to unpeel them - they were numb and cold, even with the fire right there.

Clarus turned away, and Cor quickly sat on the nearby chair. It didn’t feel like his legs would hold him. The world seemed to spin and he was so cold, yet he was sweating. Why - what was happening?

Cor swallowed and shivered in his seat, watching his friends - who luckily for him, didn’t notice.

 

* * *

 

Weskham rolled his eyes, long suffering. “Soon you’ll be telling me my cooking is bad.”

“I’ll never do that,” Regis teased, “unless you’d earned it.”

“See if I ever cook for you again.” Weskham said seriously, but he was smiling the entire time.

“Just because no one wants you to teach them knife skills.”

“Kitchen skills are useful everywhere, isn’t it right, Cornelius?”

( “-ouch.” Junia gasped. “Shit, that’s bad. Cornelius, get me the medical kit.”

Cor had already got it, running towards her before he stopped to rummage through it.

“Actually - no. Stop.”

Cor jerked and glared at her. “You were stabbed.”

“The blade was poisoned.”

He snarled at her, at the med kit, and looked down at it to root through it some more. He knew that there weren’t anymore antidotes. They’d used up all of them, but he hoped -

Junia coughed, and it splattered her hand with bright red blood. She shuddered, and then started to fall -)

“I don’t think he agrees with you.” Regis raised his eyebrows at Weskham.

With numb hands he clutched his plate tighter and tucked it closer to himself. Cor’s chest hurt, and everything seemed wrong, but he rolled his eyes when Regis looked at him and that was - alright. He was alright.

 

* * *

 

“Go to bed, Cornelius.” Regis rolled over in his sleeping bag, and slammed his pillow over his head.

And it - he didn’t say anything wrong, but why was his heart screaming in his chest? Why did his chest _hurt_? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Cor curled up small and tight in his sleeping bag, and tried to breathe like he had been shown years ago. It didn’t work. He put his head onto his pillow and breathed into it instead, shivering.

“Cor?” A quiet, careful voice called out to him, and he screwed his eyes shut.

A sleeping bag rustled, and Cor felt Regis crouch next to him.

“Look at me please, Cor. You’re worrying me.” It was enough to get him to turn his face a little, and terrified eyes stared into Regis’ own. “Can I touch you?” He asked.

Cor jerked his head in a nod, and then there was a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him up until he was sitting. There was another hand cupping his head, and Regis spoke softly and calmly at him.

“You’re having a panic attack. Can you breathe with me?” Regis took exaggerated slow breaths, and Cor tried to copy him. He leaned into Regis and breathed when he could feel Regis breathe.

Cor closed his eyes.

When he opened them again he didn’t feel like the world was spiralling away, but he didn’t move away from Regis’ hug or how he gently rubbed his back.

“Feeling better?” Regis asked, shifting so Cor sat more on his lap.

Cor turned his face into Regis’ shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. “Yes.”

“That was a bad panic attack.” Regis murmured, “do you mind telling me if there was a reason for it? Did something upset you?”

He shifted and didn’t say anything.

“That’s a yes.” Regis stroked his hair. “We won’t blame you, whatever it is, Cor.”

“It’s childish.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to suffer.”

“I don’t -” Cor buried his face into Regis to muffle his words. “I don’t like being called - Cornelius. I like Cor, but.”

Regis paused. “Your name? That’s an easy thing to fix, Cor. We just won’t call you that.”

“It’s stupid. And I even picked it out myself.”

“Picked it?”

Cor rested his chin on Regis’ shoulder. “Yeah. It was like my old name, but better, because people didn’t think I was a girl when I used it.”

“You could just use Cor as your name if you want to,” Regis suggested. “Cor Leonis.”

Cor tilted his head and Regis hummed.

“Sharp chin,” Regis said as a warning, and Cor moved his head to tuck his chin back in.

“I like that name,” Cor said.

“Well, you could always keep it.”

 

* * *

 

“Cor?” Regis called him.

Cor rolled of his Prince’s sofa and walked to him, curious. The other man held a piece of paper in his hand and smiled at him.

“I made this for you.” Regis smile grew wider.

Cor frowned at him, and peered over his shoulder at it.

It was a deed poll - a certificate to change a name. To change _his_ name into Cor Leonis, something he couldn’t do because he was under eighteen, and had no adults that could impersonate his parents. Signed by the Prince, it was legal.

Cor brushed his fingers over the ink. He picked it up and clutched it close to him, looking at Regis with joy in his eyes. He swallowed. “Thank you.”


End file.
